


Sunshine and Warmth to Blame

by EachPeachPearPlum, LelsieSphinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coney Island, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Stucky Media Mini Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/pseuds/EachPeachPearPlum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelsieSphinx/pseuds/LelsieSphinx
Summary: “C’mon,” he says, pulling at Steve’s hand until he has no choice but to stumble after him in the direction of the door.“Where are we going?” Steve asks, looking pointedly at his bare feet, hoping Bucky picks up on the fact that Steve isn’t dressed for going out without him having to say anything about it.“The future, Stevie. I told you that.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83
Collections: Stucky Media Mini Bang 2019





	Sunshine and Warmth to Blame

**Author's Note:**

> From the author: My initial intention was to claim one of the proposed prompts for this fest, but after drafting it out I realised my idea was decidedly not going to be mini. And so I self-prompted, with what is a lovely but not entirely cheerful song that I invite you all to listen to.  
> I want to thank Lelsie for choosing my fairly naff summary and for creating so many artworks for this short and until recently incomplete fic, so make sure you all praise her for going way above and beyond. I'm also sending gratitude to my beta, Gabby, and to the mods for putting this fest on.  
> Hope you enjoy,  
> Peach
> 
> From the artist: I had so much fun making the art for this! Peach did such a wonderful job telling this story and it really inspired me to draw more. When claims came around, this was my first choice, and I'm so grateful I got to work with Peach! It's a wonderful story, and I hope you all love it as much as I do. :)  
> <3 Lelsie

_If I could write out my own dream  
For the next time that I sleep  
You’d be the first one that I see  
And I, the last one that you’d keep  
And the dream would go on and on  
While we sway  
Against all things thrown our way  
And the morning would be so cruel  
When it came  
With sunshine and warmth to blame  
For announcing the end of my sweet dream  
For announcing the end of my sweet dream_  
**Greg Laswell - _Sweet Dream_**

Bucky’s in his uniform, the way he was the evening before he shipped out, looking every bit as young as he did that night, every bit as vital and alive. His grin is bright perfection against the drab mundanity of their apartment, and Steve itches with the need to draw him, capture a little bit of that spark on paper and keep it for himself, the same way people used to believe a photograph could capture someone’s soul.

Bucky apparently isn’t on board with that idea, though, if the way he snatches away Steve’s notebook is any indication, dropping it on the couch.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling at Steve’s hand until he has no choice but to stumble after him in the direction of the door.

“Where are we going?” Steve asks, looking pointedly at his bare feet, hoping Bucky picks up on the fact that Steve isn’t dressed for going out without him having to say anything about it.

“The future, Stevie. I told you that.”

He pulls Steve out the door to their apartment and-

Steve’s battered sneakers hit the sun-baked sidewalk outside their apartment, soles worn thin enough for him to feel the heat of it. He’ll have to adjust to it as they’re walking, though, because Bucky has already set off, and Steve wouldn’t think twice about following him even if their hands weren’t still linked.

He’s always followed Bucky, and being almost seven decades in the future isn’t enough to change that.

“Really, though, where are we going?” he asks again, because an eternal willingness to follow Bucky doesn’t mean he isn’t curious.

Bucky shrugs, the motion pulling his very 21st century t-shirt tight across his chest and shoulders. “You’re the one who lives here,” he says. “Why don’t you show me what’s new?”

“So much, Buck,” he says. “God, so much has changed. Even just the clothes…” He looks down at his own outfit, khakis and a plaid button down that Tony would cringe at, then at Bucky’s far more fashionable circulation-restricting jeans.

“What?” Bucky grins. “They look good on me.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, letting his eyes linger all the places he could never have let them linger seventy years ago, not out on the street where anyone can see them. “I’ll give you that much.”

“Fingers crossed you’ll be giving me a hell of a lot more than that later,” Bucky says with a smirk, and if it weren’t for the fact that Bucky is very determinedly leading them away from home Steve would take him up on the suggestion sooner rather than later.

But right now Bucky wants to see the future, and they’ve got all the time in the world to go to bed together, so Steve just smiles back at him as they walk down streets that are a mix of old and new, familiar and not.

“Do you remember when?” they take turns asking. _When this was all tenements? When there was a bakery there? When we were too poor to be allowed in stores like this? When a loaf of stale bread cost ten cents and even then we could barely afford it?_

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky says after that last one. “Don’t tell me you actually miss those days? We never had enough to eat, you were halfway to dying every other week, and this?” He raises their joined hands, giving them a little shake, and finishes with, “You know what would’ve happened if we got caught together. Pretty sure what you have now is a hell of a lot better than what we had then.”

Steve knows he should agree, and part of him does. There’s still poverty and hunger in the world, still prejudice and discrimination, but things are better than they were. He can walk down the street holding Bucky’s hand, could even marry him if they both want it, and racial segregation is mostly a thing of the past. Illnesses that killed thousands when they were young can now be prevented with vaccines, and fewer people live below the poverty line than used to. Women can work and men can stay home with the kids, people can declare their own gender, and very few countries argue that love should be illegal anymore.

He should agree that the future is better, but… “I missed you, Buck. You and Peg, the Howlies, Howard, Mrs Wilkes from down the hall, Mr Chen from the paper shop. Everyone I ever knew was back there.”

“I know, pal,” Bucky says, squeezing Steve’s hand sympathetically. “I know.”

Neither of them says anything for a moment, and then Bucky shrugs off the slow, solemn moment. “I’m here now, though,” he says, as bright as he was before he shipped out, before Hydra and the endless slog of the war. Bright and young and _alive_ , and it makes Steve feel the same way.

“C’mon,” he says, taking the lead now that he’s got a direction in mind. “I know exactly where we should go.”

He sets off at a run, purely for the fun of it. Because he can run, now, sprinting through the streets with an ease he could never have imagined when he was a boy. Bucky races along beside him, laughing every bit as much as Steve is, revelling in the city and the gentle warmth of springtime and the fact that for the first time in their lives Steve is healthy enough to enjoy it, and so they run, run and run and run until-

The amusement parks of their youth are long gone, as are many of the rides, but plenty of others are standing tall and proud. In amongst all the shining, flashing roller coasters and bumper cars, the Parachute Jump looms over everything, no longer operational but still there, and the Wonder Wheel keeps turning.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, as they stand in line for the Cyclone. “I still remember what happened last time.”

“And you’re never going to let me forget it,” Steve answers, and-

For a moment he’s standing on that mountain again, waiting to take a zip wire across the ravine Bucky is going to fall into. It’s cold and it’s dark and in no time at all his heart is going to be ripped from his chest when he fails to save him. Bucky’s going to die, Bucky’s already dead, Steve remembers that now, he could have saved him, _should_ have saved him, and-

Steve shakes his head, forcibly yanking himself from that mountainside and back to the warmth and lights and sounds of Luna Park, where Bucky is still at his side.

“A lot has changed since then,” he says softly. “Plus, I’m pretty sure the serum fixed any motion sickness I had back then.”

“We’re about to find out,” Bucky points out, nodding at the front of the line, only metres ahead of them now, and-

True to his word, Steve’s most recent meal stays exactly where he wants it to, on the Cyclone and every other ride they go on. They gorge themselves on hot dogs that taste exactly like the one they shared all those years ago, devour funnel cakes and cotton candy like they’re in one of those awful eating contests Clint got Steve to watch the last time they were in the same city, drink overpriced coffees from cardboard cups with their names spelled wrong.

Bucky uses his sniper skills to win Steve an ugly stuffed bear, and Steve uses his enhanced strength to beat the rigged Tin Can Alley. The stall owner glares at them, and at the cans on the floor, but since he can’t argue that Steve cheated without acknowledging that said cans are still glued together Steve gets to pick an equally ugly bear for Bucky in exchange.

There’s more food and more rides, more terrible prizes, more smiles and laughter than Steve's managed since he woke up in that fake hospital room.

By sunset, they're all amusement parked out, walking along the boardwalk hand-in-hand. Steve has no real direction in mind, and since Bucky isn't dragging him off somewhere else he doesn't think he does either, but neither of them is ready to call it a day just yet.

It's easily the best day Steve has had in a long time. No calls to assemble, no well-meaning teammates demanding Steve's time, no destruction or danger or the desperate loneliness Steve has been living with for years now. It's just been effortless, the way spending time with Bucky has always been, and Steve wants it to go on forever.

It won't, of course. Nothing ever does, but that doesn't stop him wanting it to.

“I came here before,” he says, resting his elbows on the railing that separates the boardwalk from the beach, ready to address the elephant in the room. “Without you, I mean.”

“No such time, pal,” Bucky answers, leaning on the railing alongside him, his right side plastered to Steve’s left. “You ain’t ever gonna be without me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Bucky says, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. “You and me? We’re forever, okay?”

“Forever,” Steve agrees, turning his head to brush a kiss to Bucky’s hair.

Bucky lifts his head up, tilting his chin up just a little bit, the request so evident even verbalising it wouldn’t make it more clear. Steve doesn’t hesitate to grant it, and they kiss then and there, in front of witnesses for the first time in their lives.

 _Okay_ , Steve thinks. With Bucky at his side, the future is a hell of a lot easier to bear.

X

Waking up is like the sudden landing after a long fall, the way Steve thinks Bucky must have felt, assuming he was still alive enough to feel anything when he hit the ravine floor.

His breath catches in his throat, a ragged, desperate noise that only his pride keeps him from calling a sob. He spends the seconds it takes his lungs to stop seizing and his muscles to unlock staring at the ugly artex ceiling, eyes trying to turn the formless shadows and ridges into something with a pattern, then rolls onto his side and sits up, planting his feet on the floor.

Sleep hasn’t been Steve’s friend for a long time now, and lying there waiting for it won’t do him any good.

Steve makes his way to the bathroom, completing his morning ablutions on automatic, then dresses for running and leaves the apartment.

Day 827. Maybe this is the day it stops hurting.

Somehow, Steve doesn’t think so.

X

In a bank vault not too far away, the defrosting process begins.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us on tumblr at [dreaminglypeach](https://dreaminglypeach.tumblr.com/) and [kittytheroseofkirea](https://kittytheroseofkirea)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Day 827](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23770264) by [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/pseuds/alby_mangroves)




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